


He'd Trade His Guns For Love

by geckoholic



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thieves, Anal Sex, Casual Sex, Complicated Relationships, Con Artists, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: Moments later, Dick has made his way through the crowd and is hanging off Jason's shoulder, whispering into Jason's ear, his breath tickling the short hairs at the nape of Jason's neck. “If you're here for good old Kathy's trinkets,” he purrs, “then, ohh, Little Wing, I'm afraid I beat you to the punch on that one.”Dick butts into one of Jason's meticulously planned scores and gets "punished" appropriately.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 7
Kudos: 158
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	He'd Trade His Guns For Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strikeyourcolors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikeyourcolors/gifts).



> Heists aren't a thing I can write well, so, have some porn with a thin veneer of con artistry for the setting. ;)
> 
> Beta-read by volavi. Thank you for that as well! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Crossfire" by Stephen.

Jason has the whole thing planned out. He's memorized the floor plan, could write every employee's biography, and did thorough research on every single part of the security system. The latter's good, but not exactly innovative. Still, gonna need a bit of a personal touch, which is why he'd spent days hounding guards and waiters and security guards on social media and, errr, some less publicly accessible sources. Getting the staff lists in the first place was laughably easy, as well. 

Some venues really deserve to get robbed. Although Jason doesn't like the word _robbery_ all that much; it's too rough, lacks in elegance, reduces his field of expertise to a matter of strength and brutality. But it's not. It's not that at all. That was the very first thing Bruce taught him, back when Jason tried to pick the wheels off his Rolls Royce. A good thief doesn't leave traumatized staff and black eyes. A good thief leaves only the vague impression of a nice stranger and no other trace at all. 

Anyhow. Tonight it's showtime, and he'll see if all that groundwork and preparation will pay off. The last night of the exhibition; if it doesn't work out tonight, he'll have to follow them back to France and start all over again. He hates French cuisine, so. Not a desirable option. 

He's wearing a bespoke suit and a smug grin, like he's never known troubles and the world belongs to him. That's another one of Bruce's lessons: nothing catches the eye of the rich like someone who doesn't reek of money. Not like Bruce had ever lacked in that department. Unlike Jason, he'd never been a street rat looking for a score, any score, to survive. He'd learned the art of the con to make his life less boring, but, to his credit, he did execute it to absolute perfection, and he's taught these skills to a bunch of boys less fortunate than him. Boys like Jason. 

A waitress passes Jason by, and Jason takes a glass of extraordinarily expensive champagne from her tray, giving her a telltale wink, to which she responds with a smile and a waggle of her finger. If he were an actual rich heir, he'd mistake that for flirting. Since he's not, he recognizes it as riding the line between self respect and keeping her job. 

He looks around the room. It's crowded, just as he'd hoped, the busiest night since after the opening private viewing, but not as full of press and cameras. Just the lazier parts of high society, catching their last chance to not miss out on one of the conversation topics for the next big charity gala. Everything's going smoothly. His plan is solid. He can be out of here in twenty minutes, thirty at most, and with a bunch of jewelry that once belonged to Catherine de Medici. 

Except just then he spots a familiar face in the crowd, an unmistakably beautiful smile getting thrown in his direction, and those blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Dick raises his glass in greeting and saunters over with that infuriating swing in his step, like he's dancing. Jason hates him so much. 

Jason has always loved him beyond words. 

Moments later, Dick has made his way through the crowd and is hanging off Jason's shoulder, whispering into Jason's ear, his breath tickling the short hairs at the nape of Jason's neck. “If you're here for good old Kathy's trinkets,” he purrs, “then, ohh, Little Wing, I'm afraid I beat you to the punch on that one.” 

Jason pushes him away, and he doesn't know which is harder to do: getting some distance between them or not screaming out loud in frustration. But they can't afford the attention, neither the kind that comes from a public spat nor the one that comes from two men getting quite too cosy with each other in the midst of a crowd that's as conservative as it is filthy rich. A few people have already given them disdainful glances, and Jason mimics a person drinking too much at them, rolls his eyes, and grabs Dick's arm to not-so-gently usher him to the nearest exit. 

***

They go to Jason's place, because he actually lives here, because Gotham is _his_ turf now that Bruce has gotten bored of domestic scores and moved to international operations, and because Dick's booked into a hotel, which is definitely the more unsafe option between the two. 

“What the _fuck_ , Dick,” Jason hisses, although he's already got an inkling that maybe this exact turnout was part of Dick's plan. And that's even more infuriating. Jason doesn't like to be played, and, thing is, he wouldn't even have said no to a joint score if Dick had bothered asking beforehand. 

Dick loosens his tie and carelessly throws his suit jacket over the back of Jason's couch, and drops down with his legs crossed. “Do you have milk and cereal around? I could go for some Fruit Loops, specifically.” 

Jason closes his eyes and counts to three, unsurprised to find that the dire urge to strangle Dick hasn't dissipated any by the time he's done. He glares at Dick. Dick holds his eyes, nonchalant, a subtle but familiar challenge, and all of a sudden they're on the same page. It's not the first time Dick has crossed into his territory, taken one of his scores, and so far they've mostly resolved that in the exact same way each time. Well. Not exactly the same. There were... variations. 

That, too, might have been part of Dick's plan, and dammit, one of those days Jason will teach him to just _ask_ for a hard fuck when he wants one. Jason is always happy to oblige in that regard. What he's not so happy about preparing a score for weeks just to then have Dick dive in and steal it from him at the last minute. And yes, he's aware of the irony there. But it's work. Not honest work, but work, and not a stupid game to spice up Dick's sex life. 

“ _Bedroom_ ,” Jason commands. “We're not ruining this couch, I only had it delivered last month. Also, you can go buy your own Fruit Loops in the morning.” 

Dick pouts. He's a good five years older than Jason, but between the two of them, he's still the one who manages to look demure and innocent if he wants, the kind of charade Jason never really mastered. “Rude, Little Wing. So rude.” 

“Stop calling me that,” Jason demands, and he then heads to the bedroom without looking back to see if Dick's ready to follow him. It's incredibly gratifying to hear the leather groan and squeak as Dick leaps off the couch, practically falling over his feet to head him off on their way to the bed. 

He jumps onto the bed and scoots up so he's sitting by the headboard, already unbuttoning his shirt. There's an energy to him that sets fire to Jason's blood, makes Jason want nothing more than pin him to the bed and undo him by every trick in the book. And there's no reason why he shouldn't; that's exactly why Dick's here, why he inserted himself in _Jason's_ score to raise his heels. Neither of them is hurting for money, at this point, after all. 

Maybe it is a game, sometimes. Just a little bit. Just between the two of them. 

Jason waits until Dick's gotten his shirt off before he joins him in undressing, starting with his pants. He's hard already, from the banter, from seeing nothing else than Dick's bare, lithe chest, the tattoo in the shape of a chevron, the trail of dark hair that disappears into his pants. There's a bulge there as well and Jason wants to get him naked, wants to taste him, wants to tie him up and make him writhe and beg for release until those pretty blue eyes are glazed over and hazy with pleasure. 

He sheds his jacket next but doesn't bother with his shirt, climbs onto the bed with Dick and leans over him to open a drawer on the nightstand – lube, condoms, soft rope, padded handcuffs, dildos, vibrators... He lets Dick's gaze rove over the contents, grinning. “Pick one.” 

Dick rolls over to a little more to touch some of the toys, his eyes lit up with anticipation, and finally points at a small, slim vibrator. 

“Good choice,” Jason agrees, and places the toy on the nightstand, along with lube and a condom. He sits back on his haunches and tugs at Dick's pants. “You're overdressed. Catch up.” 

Dick's gaze falls to Jason's cock, straining up against his stomach, and he reaches out to tug at the hem of his dress shirt, coy look on his face although he must notice the way that makes the fabric play around the sensitive head. “You too, though. Off with it, hm?” 

With a nod, Jason begins to slowly undo the buttons, by feel only, his gaze pinned to Dick's crotch as the latter pulls down the zipper, lifts his ass a little to shimmy out of his pants and underwear, revealing his erection, already moist at the tip. Jason grins; it'll be awhile until he'll get to come tonight, and he made that choice himself. 

He's quite the sight on the whole, laid out on the bed, naked and eager and Jason's to play with for the rest of the night. He doesn't even need to be restrained; he holds onto the headboard with both hands, and Jason knows he won't move them until this is over, except, maybe, to bunch the sheets in his fists instead. But he won't touch himself. He won't take that relief. 

Jason kneels between Dick's spread legs, shifts a few times for a nice, comfortable position, brushing his hands down Dick's inner thighs on accident. Dick shivers at the touch, muscles quivering. He's got his lower lip pulled between his teeth, and it's an incredible rush, knowing – and seeing – how high-strung Dick is already, despite not really having been touched at all yet. And that only makes Jason take his sweet time, touch him here and there, caressing bare skin at random, watching how more and more precome pearls from the head of Dick's cock, already, from such innocent contact. 

Jason wasn't born a patient man, though, and soon he sits back and picks the small vibrator up, turning it on so that it emits a low buzzing noise. He contemplates his first move for another long moment, and then he leans forward, slowly, in order to touch the vibrating toy directly to Dick's slit, then to the band of skin that connects the shaft to the glans. And Dick's reactions are _beautiful_ : he's panting, stomach muscles fluttering under smooth skin, his legs falling even wider in a silent demand for more, more, _more_ that Jason won't answer anytime soon. 

He allows Dick a small reprieve only to then wrap his hand around Dick's length, the vibrator in his palm, and jerk him off at a tortuously slow pace. Dick follows the movements, thrusting up into Jason's grip, a silent plea to go faster, go harder, that he must know Jason won't answer. He changes the angle after a little while, readjusts the position of the vibrator, but he won't give Dick enough speed, enough pressure, for this to be anything more than a vicious tease. 

And yet, Dick whines when Jason takes his hand away, exposing his swollen, blood-heavy cock to the open air. He leans in and puffs out a breath against the wet mess at the tip, laughs at the full-body shiver Dick gives in reaction. He takes him in hand again, without the vibrator, presses his thumb against the hot skin of the head. Dick moans, squirming under the touch – whether it's to get away from or chase the sensation, he probably doesn't know himself. 

Then Jason sits back, shifting just out of reach, and just _watches_. Watches Dick stare at him, indignant, aghast, disbelieving. The urgent need that must be pulsing in his crotch at this point is visible in every line of his body, tense, pulled so taut he might snap at the slightest touch. 

That, Jason decides, is a theory worth testing, and so he leans in once more, lower than before, so he can run his tongue over the mess at the tip and taste him. 

Dick wails, screws his eyes shut, like not looking as Jason takes only the head into his mouth and sucks, works his tongue around the glans, might make it easier to bear. With his other hand, Jason feels around for the vibrator and, once successful, lets it slide down and around Dicks balls. He tastes the salt of precome pulsing from the head twice more before he sits back again, allowing Dick another brief moment without touch, without being teased. 

When he reaches for Dick again, it's to brush his fingers against Dick's hole. “Do you want to come on my tongue,” he casually asks, “or on my cock?” 

Dick gives him a pointed look, his gaze wandering down Jason's body to his erection like he's been in charge the whole time, like it's Jason who's laid out before him quivering with need, so turned on that there's a blush spreading from his chest to the tip of his ears, torn between begging Jason to come and cursing him out for the wait. 

“Fuck me,” he eventually manages, through clenched teeth, and the words warmly shiver down Jason's spine. “Put it in me _now_.” 

“So brash.” Jason shakes his head in mock-offense, even while he's already ripping the condom wrapper open. He rolls the condom on and lubes himself generously, smearing the excess onto Dick's hole. 

Jason then lines up, and Dick's eyes go wide when the realization must hit home that he's not getting any prep tonight. Nevertheless, the head goes in easily, and after that, Jason goes very, very slow to let Dick's body adjust around the intrusion. Dick grimaces, eyes screwed shut, but he doesn't protest or complain. His erection doesn't wane, either, once again leaking precome by the time Jason's all the way inside, holding himself motionless until Dick starts moving first, demanding for Jason to get a move on, fuck him right, finally grant him his release. 

And Jason does; fucks him with deep, angled thrusts that are designed to drive Dick the rest of the way out of his mind. He comes on maybe the third or fourth proper push inside, his body contracting around Jason's cock while he spills onto his own stomach and chest. Jason doesn't hold back after that, and it doesn't take long for him to follow. He pulls out with a hiss, then collapses onto the bed next to Dick and pulls him into his arms. 

They'll have to clean up before sleep if they don't want to wake up in a gross, sticky mess the next morning, but that can wait a few minutes. Dick earned himself some tenderness, a moment of real intimacy before Jason climbs off the bed to get a washcloth and a glass of soda and they both pretend this is all part of a game, nothing deeper than that, no feelings other than the sense of connection that stems from having shared the same mentor. 

***

In the morning, Jason wakes to an empty bed and a note on nightstand that reads _Bludhaven Fine Art Gallery, November 2nd – I'll do the groundwork and we'll meet at my place two days prior if you're in_ decorated with a crudely drawn kissy face and Dick's signature. 

Really, Jason should stand him up. On principle, as a general life lesson, out of pride, all that. 

But he won't.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [dreamwidth](https://geckoholic.dreamwidth.org/), [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacenerdz).


End file.
